


when places made are kept

by hobbitual



Series: D/s Hydra Husbands [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Boot Worship, Bruises, Collars, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Mirrors, Pet Names, Pet Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitual/pseuds/hobbitual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>follow me on tumblr @ usopp :^)</p></blockquote>





	when places made are kept

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Сохранение заданного положения](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012254) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



There's a mirror in front of Brock. It's full length, sparkling clean, and he can see everything that's brought him to this point.

 

He's naked, on his knees, collar tight on his neck. He can feel the leather pushing into the bruise Jack left. He can't see it, but God, he can feel how it stings. If he moves, the tag jingles softly, but he's trying not to move. Jack had told him to work on patience, and what better way than to do so by holding perfect posture?

 

***

 

Jack had gotten Brock a mirror. Of course he had to make a stupid quip about how Brock can do his hair more easily now, doll himself up for Jack and look pretty, and Brock had made sure to tell him to fuck off, he doesn't fucking do that. But when Jack pushed him up against the mirror, holding his waist in his big hands, and told him what else Brock could use it for, well, fuck. How can you resist something like _that_?

 

Jack had watched Brock undress, and Brock doesn't blush, ever, he's too fucking tan for that, but Jack commented on how pretty Brock looked when he was flushed and got a t-shirt in the face for all that was worth.

 

When Brock was completely naked, Jack had appraised him with a keen eye, and maybe Brock felt a little bit of heat in his cheeks and neck.

 

Brock shivered a little, crossing his arms and obstinately looking away from Jack. It was cold in the room without any clothes on. And sort of embarrassing having Jack looking at him like he wanted to take a bite out of him _again._

 

“Take a picture, Rollins, it'll last longer,” Brock muttered.

 

“Don't give me any ideas, darlin',” Jack replied, stepping closer to put a hand on Brock's hip. “Ain't you just a vision?”

 

Brock huffed, flattered by the compliment, but indignant about showing it. “Hard work pays off sometimes. Can we get on with it now or are you just going to ogle me the entire time? You sound like a pervy old man.”

  
Jack flicked Brock in the middle of his forehead with his other hand, making Brock go cross-eyed. “Now _you_ of all people have no business callin' me old,” Jack snorted, watching Brock blink to correct his vision while furiously rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. Jack's hands were too agile for his own damn good.

 

Brock made to push Jack, frustrated with being teased, but Jack caught Brock's hands in his own and intertwined their fingers.

 

“Alright, alright,” Jack laughed, “calm down, sweetheart. Look. Turn around, I want you to see what I see.”

 

Jack disentangled his fingers from one of Brock's hands but kept the fingers of his other hand entwined with Brock's. Raising their connected arms in the air, Jack twirled Brock in a circle like something out of a ball dance, leaving Brock facing the mirror but vaguely dizzy.

 

“Jesus, you're such a tool,” Brock scoffed, trying to focus on his reflection through the dizziness. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at? It's me, sexiest man of the year. With an unnecessarily huge bite mark on my neck, no thanks to you, you fucking vampire. Am I missing something?”

 

“Now that you mention it, I'm thinkin' you are,” Jack answered. “You wait there lookin' pretty, give me one minute.”

 

“For what? What are –“  
  
Oh. Oh shit.

 

Jack was back in the room before Brock could react; when he realized what Jack meant his mind and body felt as electrified as a live wire.

 

Brock closed his eyes at some point when Jack stepped out, and they were still closed when he heard Jack coming up behind him. He knows what's coming next and he's shivering again, but this time with anticipation. It's always like this: a switch is flipped in his brain and he's ready to just...let go. Always.

 

Jack pressed himself up against Brock's naked back, pushing a soft moan out of Brock's throat. He could feel Jack's broad chest through the softness of his shirt, the warmth seeping through, and if he focused hard enough he could feel Jack's heartbeat.

 

“Look at you,” Jack said, low and rumbling in Brock's ear, breath ghosting over the mark on his neck. “Pretty as a picture. Those sweet eyes, and the lips on you, sweetheart – makes me want to doll you up in lipstick, mascara, get you lookin' like a real princess.”

 

It's always a struggle to filter Jack's words through the fog in Brock's brain when he's feeling this way, but when Brock processed what Jack said, his eyelids began to flutter open, and his entire body tensed up. Jack wants him to wear makeup? Like a fucking chick? He's okay with the pet names, likes being called princess, but to actually...he can't do that.

 

“What? I – that's not – no, Jack, you can't – ah! Shit!”

 

Jack had a hand clasped against Brock's neck, thumb digging hard into the bite mark. The pain was exquisite and fucking excruciating. Brock had started to get hard from feeling Jack's body against his, the firm muscle and steady heartbeat making him feel safe and turned on all at once, but the initial jolt of pain shot straight to his dick, amounting in only the most erotic mingling of pain and pleasure. It made Brock weak in the knees, unable to protest anymore, whimpering was all that could come out of his mouth. His eyes had squeezed shut again at the first second of pain.

 

“I'm sorry, who? I don't think there's anyone here by the name of Jack right now. Try again, won't you, darlin'? Speak up now.”

 

“S-sir,” Brock gasped out, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir, please, it hurts, so – so fucking much, I can't, I don't, please – !”

 

“Good boy,” Jack said, taking his thumb off the bruise, but keeping it hovered over Brock's skin. “Now, I know you've got a temper, you don't like bein' told what to do even when that's what you need, but there won't be any 'you can't' from that sassy mouth of yours. Who's in charge here? Hm? Who's been fulfillin' all your little fantasies, lettin' you have your tantrums and givin' you what you ask for when you can't be grown up enough to really ask for it?” Jack lowers his thumb again, close enough for a real threat of more of that pain, and Brock doesn't know if he can stop his dick from shooting off untouched if Jack does that one more time. “Tell daddy what he wants to hear, angel.”

 

“You, sir, you're – you're in charge, you own me and I – I'm sorry, sir, please don't – please, I'm yours, thank you for letting me – letting me be so – so bad, please, I love you, sir, I – I would do anything for you – !“ Tears are leaking out of Brock's tightly shut eyelids now. He doesn't want to ruin this, by coming too early or making Jack too angry, for any reason at all, he wants Jack to be happy with him. He wants to do what Jack says.

 

“Very good, princess,” Jack said, finally moving his hand away from Brock's neck completely. Brock felt Jack press a feather light kiss to the bruise, making him shake and bite his lip. He couldn't take any more fucking _teasing_...

 

“Now,” Jack said, “let's keep movin' on, shall we? Get a start on makin' you look like daddy's pretty little bitch.”

 

As Jack said those words, Brock heard the telltale jingling noise of the tag on his collar.

 _  
Finally_. Finally, fucking finally he'll get one step closer to that place in his head where nothing can touch him or make him feel anything but peace. He wants that so

badly right now.

 

“Keep your eyes closed until I say so, sweetheart,” Jack said, and Brock had a split second to take a breath before he felt the front of the collar pressing against his neck, the sensation of the leather leaving him unable to breathe at all. As Jack fastened the buckle in the back, the collar pressed into Brock's bruise; not as hard as Jack's touch, just a firm and steady pressure, but Brock's dick twitches again from the light throb of pain. Brock can feel the tag against his sternum, the metal a little bit cold, the heart shape making a smile tug at his mouth.

 

“Ain't you just the cutest thing?” Jack chuckled. “Nice to see a smile on that pretty face. Open your eyes now, sweetness.”

 

Brock cracked one eye open, half squinting at his reflection in the mirror. His vision was blurry, but he could still see the pastel pink color of the leather and the fucking _rhinestones_ dotted around the length of it. Jack's sense of humor was too fucking much, and if Brock weren't halfway to that floaty, special place in his mind, he would have barked out an insult or at least scoffed, but he opened both his eyes fully instead, finally taking in everything on display.

 

Jack is directly behind him, and while he puts his warm hands on Brock's hips, Brock's eyes travel all over both of their bodies. The contrast of Brock's nakedness, sans the collar, and Jack, fully clothed, it's...it's pushing him more and more into pure submissiveness. It feels like his mind is warring with being annoyed with Jack and utterly grateful to him, and the annoyed part of his brain is quickly losing.

 

Brock felt Jack's laugh rumbling in his chest, feeling like it's sinking into the muscles of his back. “I know,” Jack said, “daddy likes things to be a little different than you're used to. But don't you look so sweet in pink, darlin'? Brings out your eyes. I'll get you one in black, Italian leather, how's that? But only when you've been a real good boy. Can you do that for me, princess? Be a good boy now and daddy will get his puppy all kinds of treats.”

 

Brock swallowed hard, Jack's words having the worst ( _the best_ ) kind of effect on him. “O-okay,” Brock stuttered out, “yes, sir, I'll – I'll be good. Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

 

“That's good, baby. Real good. Now, I want you to try sittin' pretty for me.” Jack took his hands from Brock's hips and moved them to his shoulders. “Kneel for me, puppy. That's it. Nice and slow.”

 

Giving into the pressure of Jack's hands on his shoulders, Brock watched the reflection of himself slowly sink to his knees, resting his weight on the backs of his ankles. He folded his hands in his lap, looking up at Jack in the mirror through his lashes. Jack rested a hand on top of Brock's head, running his fingers through Brock's hair and rubbing at the shaved sides. Brock hummed low in his throat; Jack had never petted him so thoroughly before and it felt absolutely incredible, especially while floating, like he currently was.

 

Jack smiled fondly down at Brock, his eyes crinkling, and Brock felt his heart swell a little at having made Jack outwardly pleased with him.

 

“Not bad at all, sweetheart. Daddy wants you to do things a little differently, though,” Jack said, making Brock tense up, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. Was he doing it wrong? Was he fucking up already? Did Jack just smile like that out of pity because Brock had no idea how to, to do anything like this? Brock was starting to shake with adrenaline and embarrassment, ready to just bolt, naked or not, when Jack put his thumb on the center of Brock's lips, keeping them shut.

 

“Hush, you're doin' just fine. Relax, okay? Deep breaths? Good.” Jack crouched down behind Brock, setting one hand on each of his thighs. “Just move your legs from under you so they're on either side of you, just like this. So pretty for me, see? Lookin' all innocent and sweet. Good boy.” Jack grasped Brock's hands and gently moved them out of his lap, up to his chest. Curling Brock's fingers in, making them loosely resemble paws, Jack positioned Brock's hands to make him look like he was begging. “Now you really look like a puppy. Precious little thing.”

 

Brock's adrenaline had started to fade when Jack handled him so gently, and Jack's kind words were doing the rest, and Brock felt himself slide back into the safety of submitting entirely to Jack's will. Seeing himself beg like a dog, the way they did in porn that he would never admit to watching, was a little embarrassing. But the way it made him feel...it felt so fucking perfect. Jack was helping him be perfect, and more than anything, he wanted Jack to be happy.  
  


Jack ran his hands up Brock's spine, making Brock shiver. “Now, somethin' needs to be done about this posture, hm? Sit up straight for daddy. Arch your back like a good bitch, princess.”

 

“Jesus,” Brock muttered, feeling a pulse in his dick from Jack's colorful language. He started to straighten up his back when Jack slapped him on the cheek, light enough not to leave a mark but hard enough to sting a little. Brock blinked up at Jack, confused at the sudden change in Jack's attitude.

 

Jack frowned down at Brock, eyebrow raised. “Now I may be mistaken, but I wasn't under the impression puppies could talk. There's no denyin' you're a special breed, but I'm not expectin' any talk like that. Not now. Understood?”

 

Brock felt heat rushing up his neck and ears, embarrassed as hell for not realizing something so obvious. He broke eye contact with Jack, looking at the floor feeling chagrined and humiliated, and nodded his understanding. After few moments of silence went by without a response from Jack, Brock looked up at him again.

 

Jack was looking at him almost expectantly, head tilted, fingers starting to tap an impatient rhythm on Brock's spine. Brock had to take a minute to think about Jack could possibly be waiting for before –

 

Fuck.

 

Jack seriously wanted him to, to –

 

“Woof,” Brock whispered, face burning up with a fierce blush, the backs of his eyes prickling with humiliated tears.

 

The smile Jack rewarded Brock with for his compliance was almost blinding. “Good boy! What a good, sweet boy you are. I'm so proud of you, princess. That wasn't difficult at all, was it? Not one bit,” Jack said, ruffling Brock's hair and scratching behind his ear. “Daddy's so proud of you, angel. Takin' instruction so well, such a good puppy. Best I've ever had, aren't you?” Jack kissed Brock's nose then, and Brock felt his humiliation turn to elation. Everything was okay. He was doing well, Jack said so.

 

“Okay, princess, sit up nice and straight for me and really show me how pretty you can be,” Jack said, standing up from his crouched position, looking down at Brock.

 

Brock nodded, a small woofing noise making its way out of his throat just to see Jack smile at him again, and turned to the mirror again. He straightened his posture, arched his back and pushed his chest out, hands in front of him like a dog begging for a treat. He tried sticking his tongue out a little between parted lips, making Jack laugh and cup his chin in one hand.

 

“Very cute. Just what I've been hopin' to see.” Jack gently pushed his thumb against Brock's tongue, and this time Brock made sure to get the hint immediately, giving Jack's thumb tiny kitten licks to show his appreciation for being praised so sweetly.

 

“That's my sweet princess. You love daddy, don't you? He loves you too, he does. Now,”

 

Jack said, taking his hand away from Brock's mouth, “we're gonna have a little test, okay? Understand, baby?”

 

Brock let out another woofing noise to show he was following, this one coming out easier than the others. Maybe he was getting used to it, this kind of...intensity. He wanted Jack's hand back, too, either in front of his mouth or back to petting his hair.

 

“I'm gonna leave the room,” Jack continued, “just for five minutes. I'll be comin' back soon as that time's up. I want you to sit pretty in front of the mirror, just like this until I get back, and I'll give you a treat. Sound good, sweetheart?”

 

Brock let out an anxious whine, trying to make it sound as convincing as he could. He almost really felt like an anxious puppy not wanting its owner to leave.

 

“Shh, none of that. I'll be back, I promise. Five minutes, that's all. Be like I never left. I wanna see you can be a good, patient boy for me. Alright, sweetness?”

 

Brock tried his best to make a bark noise, not entirely sure he pulled it off, but Jack chuckled and put his hand in Brock's hair again. “Good,” Jack said, “good boy. Five minutes startin' now.”

 

Brock watched Jack leave the room through the mirror, missing him more every step he took. But he can do it, he told himself, he can wait and show Jack that nothing can stop him from listening, being good, being everything Jack wants.

 

And that's where he's at now, telling himself over and over that he's done everything right. He's had a few slip ups but who hasn't? Especially when you're just...starting out with something like this. He has to trust himself, like Jack trusts him. Like he trusts Jack.

 

He never really expected to take the puppy thing this far but fuck, he's enjoying himself anyway. His erection hasn't wavered at all the entire time, somewhat forgotten in the heat of the moment, especially when his brain feels like it's slipping sideways into that floaty, foggy feeling, but God, he's hard. He wouldn't touch himself though, not after Jack told him to keep his hands up where they are. But he hopes...

 

That doesn't matter right now. He has to keep his posture and position perfect, focus on nothing but the task at hand. Brock Rumlow does not let himself get distracted.

 

Brock isn't sure how many minutes have passed. There's a clock in the room, his bedroom, and he can see it in the mirror, close to where his bed (his _other_ bed) is. He has a fleeting, embarrassing thought about curling up in his bed when they're done, and if Jack doesn't let him come by then, maybe he can get himself off then, fall asleep fully relaxed and sated.

 

Before Brock knows it, five minutes have passed and he can hear Jack coming back into the room. Something is...different, though? Jack's footsteps sound heavier. Like he's wearing his work boots.

 

When Jack steps into the room, into the view from the mirror, Brock can see Jack _is_ wearing his work boots.

 

Brock almost asks him why he's wearing his boots outside of work, but he remembers he's not supposed to talk, so he tilts his head and tries his best at an inquisitive whine.

 

Jack grins at Brock, taking heavy steps up to stand by his side. “Look at you, princess! Haven't moved an inch, have you? Look at that. You're really learnin' how to be patient. How proud am I, huh?” Jack is petting at Brock's hair again, rubbing firm circles into his scalp, making him melt against Jack's hand. “I've got a treat for you now, pumpkin. Wanna see?”

 

Brock's eyes had slid closed when Jack started petting him, but he opens them now, pushing his face into Jack's hand. Brock gives Jack his answer in the way of a small lick on Jack's palm.

 

“What a doll,” Jack chuckles, running his palm up Brock's cheek into his hair. Brock is entirely ready for more petting, more than okay with that being his reward, but Jack catches him off guard, curling his fingers in Brock's cropped hair, tugging sharply. Brock looks up at Jack with questioning eyes, but Jack just smirks at him, pulling his head down to look at Jack's boots.

 

“Wh – what,” Brock starts, realizing he's disobeying by talking, but he has no idea what's happening right now. “What am I – sir?”

 

“Now, now, you know the rules, but I'll let that one slide. This is your treat, darlin'. The final part of the test in showin' me how good you can be at doin' what I tell you. I gave you a warmup earlier, I'm sure you remember. You know what you should be doin'. Now why don't you get to it?”

 

Jack wants Brock to...to lick his boots. This – this is the last thing he was expecting. But he's seen this type of thing in porn, especially when he first started to take an interest in dominance and submission, and...maybe he's into it? The idea is tempting, definitely, he

can get behind the idea of that far beneath Jack, it's just throwing him for a loop, he really wasn't –

 

“Ah!'

 

The toe of Jack's boot is pushing on Brock's nose, pressure steadily increasing, until Brock has to push himself backwards and move with Jack's foot. Jack keeps going until Brock is almost flat on his back, the sole of Jack's boot directly above his face.

 

“Where'd you go, princess? Looks like I lost you for a minute. I think I asked you to do somethin' for me, what do you say about that?” Jack's tone has an implication behind it that Brock is quickly recognizing.

 

Brock can't see Jack's face, the sole of his boot is encompassing his vision right now, but he makes a soft woof noise, breath brushing against the rubber treads of Jack's shoe. Looking up at the grooves and patterns in the tread marks, Brock can't help but feel...it'd make for an interesting sensation against his tongue.

 

“Good. Now, how about you lick the bottom of my boot with that sweet tongue of yours, clean as the mirror? You spent so much time in front of it, could see everythin' in it, hell, you could eat off it. Do that for my boots, princess. Do you think you can?”

 

Brock is quickly starting to agree with this idea, answering Jack's question with a loll of his tongue, ready to lick Jack's boots clean.

 

“That's my good boy,” Jack says, and Brock can hear the smirk in his voice. “Alright, show daddy. Show me you can do anythin' I ask. Show me how happy you are to be mine, princess.”

 

Brock steadies himself, digging his fingers into the carpet as to not touch himself, feeling way too turned on about doing this than is probably good for him. He feels like he could shoot at any minute, come all over himself and ruin what Jack has put in front of him, and it's not something he's willing to risk.

 

Brock brings his head up to Jack's boot and licks a wet stripe up the treads, feeling the tip of his tongue between the grooves and running over the raised parts of the rubber. It tastes like Jack's been walking in dirt and mud, and somehow that's making him even more turned on; he's doing a service to Jack, making something of his clean again, being obedient and doing what he's meant to do, _born_ to do. Jack has shown him that this is what he was made for, and he's so happy to repay Jack, in any way, every way, and especially this way.

 

Brock laps his tongue up the entire sole of Jack's boot, from heel to toe, getting his tongue into every part of the treads. His dick is hard and hot against his belly, fully hard now, and he's got his fingers curled into the carpet so hard his knuckles are white. He's moaning softly, between licks, hoping Jack is seeing how hard he's trying.

 

Before Brock is ready, Jack moves his foot, making Brock whine in a very human way at the loss.

 

“Hush now, pumpkin,” Jack laughs. “I think you've done all that you can there. I've got somethin' special for you. I know I told you this was your treat for stayin' so still and perfect in front of the mirror, but I'm seein' how hot this has got you and how desperate you've gotta be. So I tell you what.”

 

Brock is panting, looking up at Jack through hooded eyes, flushed and sweating.

 

Jack positions the boot Brock has just fervently licked clean directly over Brock's hard dick.

 

“Rollins, wh – !”

 

“No, none of that now,” Jack says, his boot making direct contact with Brock's dick, effectively shutting Brock up mid-sentence. “I know you want to get off. And I know you enjoyed what you just did. Look at how hard you got just from that. I'm thinkin' if you can get so worked up from lickin' my boots, same goes for rubbin' yourself off on 'em. 'S the only way you're gonna get to finish, sweetheart. I'm doin' you a favor here, I think.”

 

Fuck. _Fuck_. He knows what the treads on Jack's boots feel like, and it's fine on his tongue, but his cock?! He's so desperate, almost too desperate, and if Jack says it's the only way he's going to get off, he believes that.

 

Fuck, he's got no choice. So he does it.

 

Lifting his hips, Brock starts rubbing his crotch against the sole of Jack's boot. His dick slides across the treads, and it hurts, goddamn it's sensitive; when the head of his cock catches against the grooves, he feels like he could cry. But it's – it's the _right_ kind of pain. It's that exquisite, delicious pain that makes him feel electrified, like he's on fire. It hurts but it's starting to feel good too.

 

Brock's grinding his hips into it now, into the sole of Brock's boot, sweating and shaking, and he can feel the tag on his collar hitting his chest with every thrust he makes with his hips. He whines, not sure if he's meant to sound like a puppy or a human. Everything is blurry now, pain and pleasure coming together again, and his orgasm is approaching fast. His cock is starting to hurt like hell, but it's just making him feel that much closer to shooting come all over Jack's boot.

 

And just like that, Brock coming, so hard he can see stars. Tears are sliding down his cheeks, and he can't tell if it's from the chafing on his dick or the relief of finally getting to come. Blinking his tears away, Brock can see stripes of come splattered on the sole of Jack's boot, dripping onto the carpet. It makes him blush, looking away shyly. At the sound of Jack clearing his throat, Brock looks up, meeting Jack's eye.

 

“Wasn't that somethin'? Think that's the most worked up I've ever seen you. You've been very good, princess. Makin' daddy so proud.” Jack is grinning at Brock, and Brock has never felt more enraptured, or so in love.

 

“Thank you, sir,” Brock says, sitting up, shyly smiling back at Jack. “Thank you. You don't know how happy I am to – to do anything for you.”

 

“I can see that, sweetheart. I'm glad you enjoyed that treat so much. Now are you ready for your next obedience test?”

 

What? Did Brock not just –

 

Jack pushes the sole of his boot that Brock came over against the bridge of Brock's nose, pushing him onto his back all over again.

 

“Cleanin' up your own mess.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ usopp :^)


End file.
